Really, though
by Aria Skini
Summary: Character analysis killed the hero.
1. Chapter 2

Hermione had returned to her office late, not looking well. She'd hidden her face with her sleeve and closed the door behind her. Draco only knew she had returned because he'd been about to leave for the night. He'd just sent Astoria an owl when the Minister of Magic returned unexpectedly. She'd left early so it was possible she'd forgotten something, or something important had required her to return, except that he'd caused her to look like that himself enough times in school to know better. He hoped what he was about to do wouldn't be perceived as untoward and cruel.

Sighing again at the door of Mrs. Weasley's office, Mr. Malfoy steeled himself, plastering his most polite, compassionate, closed-lipped smile to his always pale face, and knocked.

"Who, who is it?" He glanced at the ceiling at the swallowed sobs he could hear in her response.

"It's Malfoy, Minister, from the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I was just wondering if you'd like to have dinner with Astoria and I, as Scorpius is staying with the Potters this weekend in Ireland?" His intonations were the perfect mix of lowly professional hoping to mingle with a superior and old frienemy hoping to put the past behind him. He couldn't help smirking at his thespian skills. Which is when the door opened in his face.

Her tear streaked cheeks and salty, red eyes looked up at him and the guilt alone would have wiped the smirk off his face if surprise hadn't done it for him. "Malfoy?" She sounded just like when she'd said it twenty years ago, incredulous and mildly affronted.

His cool returned, "Yes, Minister; dinner?" His polite smile faded as she continued to glare.

"What made you think that invitation was appropriate, Malfoy?" Her mouth closed on the question and her arms crossed, she shifted her weight to her other foot so she could get a better look at her former enemy. An enemy that she had only allowed to be accepted for the job to set a good example of reconciliation and reformation.

"Honestly? You looked upset and I wanted to offer you a chance to feel better." Compared to Lord Voldemort lying to this boss was an unfairly matched game of quidditch, "I figured, either you'd get a great dinner or enjoy laughing about rejecting my offer with your family." Only Astoria would have been able to guess his smile was fake.

Hermione uncrossed her arms to clench her fists at her side; "What do you know about my family?" Her raised voice and anger flushed cheeks highlighted the nerve he'd accidentally struck. He allowed his smile to frown in feigned ignorant innocence; he didn't need a degree in psychology to figure that the Weasel was the cause of her tears.

"Nothing, Minister. You and Ron have a beautiful daughter that my son, Scorpius, admires. That's all I know about your family." His voice sounded sincere, his expression appeared kindly concerned, his wife would have lightly smacked him for being a tosser. He hoped she wasn't worried about him now, even if he was at risk of losing his job.

He didn't need it. It was a sideways avenue for fostering connections with other potions masters. He and Astoria had bonded over potions and they both enjoyed surprising each or working on a complex recipe together. Working at the Ministry in Internationals wasn't necessary and he'd already built enough of a network that he could be fired and everyone he worked with would still talk to him. It made this act so easy he almost forgot to dislike lying.

He put his hands up in surrender, shaking his head. "It was an offer. I meant no offence. I hope you have a good night, Minister. I should be getting home; Astoria might get concerned." He bowed his head docilely and started to turn away, stepping back from the door.

Her hand shot out, catching his shoulder. Hermione had considered the alternative to dinner with the Malfoys at the dreaded Malfoy Manor and decided that there was strength in numbers, even if they weren't good odds. "Dinner…" She searched for something polite and honest; "dinner could be a fine opportunity to meet Astoria, which would be nice to do." Despite being Minister of Magic, Hermione wasn't the most suave politician. Draco valiantly refrained from sneering at her attempt to salvage a rough night.

"Excellent." His father's voice seemed to say. "Do you have everything you'll need?" He asked politely while he considered ways to make it up to Astoria. A pendant perhaps?

"I'll just be a minute." Hermione released his shoulder and turned, gathering her briefcase, putting on her cloak.

A week long vacation in the Maldives, maybe.

"Do you want to let anyone know where you'll be by owl before we leave?" Polite concern oozed, shielding him from suspicion, almost. A new conservatory with fully grown black roses set to bloom on Astoria's winter birthday. That might be good enough, along with a long night of lavished attention.

"Oh. Um, yes. Good thinking, Malfoy." He didn't need to see the note since he heard her whisper for it to go to Rose. Hermione met his eyes before nodding for him to go first. Which was a very good idea since by now his wife was probably battle ready at the fireplace.

She was. He quickly moved to block her wand from Hermione's view as he smoothly hugged his wife, concealing her shock and giving her time to school her features for professional company. Of course, she was lovely.

Without trying Astoria emphasized the other woman's stiffness. It didn't help that Hermione worked in the uniform of stuffy business. The pureblood aristocrat couldn't help it, though. Grace had been trained into the Greengrasses' for generations and Astoria was particularly fashionable. She was also an excellent host.

She immediately smiled warmly to his former enemy, extending both wand free hands as she stepped forward to welcome the Minister of Magic into her home. Her suede green leather ballet shoes made no sound on the marble floors and her silver silk evening gown was modestly becoming. Her wedding and engagement rings were her only jewelry but that only made him prouder of her natural beauty, hair casually down yet perfectly placed, minimal makeup, trim, unpainted nails you'd never guess spent hours in dirt completed the image of perfect housewife.

"Minister. It is an honor to meet you. Draco's spoken so well of you." Draco smiled at his wife's feigned warmth and veiled irony. He spoke very well, indeed. Most people didn't know Ria was antisocial.

"Please, you must let us set a place for you at the dining room table." A house elf squeaked from the shadows and hurried off to make sure dinner would go without a hitch. Despite having ordered them to comply with the new Minister's hopes for greater equality between species, old habits stuck around. At least no one had yelled at her for being Muggle born.

"That would be very kind of you, but please call me Hermione; at least while we're not at work." She glanced at Lord Malfoy as she accepted Astoria's gentle, two handed touch, vaguely resembling a shake so he supposed he still had a job. Hermione allowed Astoria to lead her into the mansion that had haunted her dreams for years, oddly comforted by the other woman's closeness. Her hand wasn't released until they'd swept into the grand, formal dining room and she'd been practically put in her seat.

The room was not one she'd seen before and she allowed herself to acknowledge that so far her adventure was better than a talk with her husband. The room was well lit by lots of floating candles that almost warmed the blackwood table and chairs. The seats were upholstered in a silver velvet that complemented the black marble floors and brightening, blue walls. The whole space was much more intimate than she had expected and while no one sat next to anyone, no one seemed to sit alone, either.

"Astoria is an exceptional herbalist. She's been expanding the gardens and the library." Draco said proudly, raising a brow in his wife's direction to prompt more discussion. Any subject was Hermione's subject and so as Astoria waxed eloquently on the incorporation of endangered plants into the landscape around Wiltshire Hermione was able to engage with the woman on the effort needed to diplomatically encourage growth with environmentalism.

The courses flowed flawlessly and Hermione started with surprise at Draco's question. He hadn't spoken much during dinner. "Dessert?"

Looking down to gather her thoughts she realized it was probably well past time to be getting on with the dreaded talk. "Oh; no. Thank you both." She looked from Draco to Astoria as she spoke; "It's been delicious and a real pleasure getting to know you and reacquainting ourselves Draco but I ought to get going." She allowed a house elf to pull her chair back as she stood.

The Malfoy's smoothly stood as well, smiling politely. "Of course, please let us know if you'd like to visit again. Scorpius would be happy to host Rose any time." Astoria could charm the dead.

"That would be lovely." Hermione was lead to the fireplace and waved away. A moment of silence passed after she'd left before Draco cleared his throat.

"I was thinking the southwest wing could use a new conservatory. Single paned glass spelled to retain warmth while letting in the light." Another moment of silence. "With a colored glass-sand reflecting pond, tall enough for a mango tree so we could grow vanilla orchids on it and hang a swinging bench."

With a sigh, Astoria turned to face her beloved husband. Her gaze searched his face for a long minute. Her hands raised, held his head as she tugged him to her lips.

They kissed and he knew he was forgiven and that he was going to lavish her with attention for the rest of the evening because he wanted to.

Hermione stepped out of her and Ron's fireplace to a cold, dark, unoccupied living room. The tinge of heart pain forced her to admit that she had hoped Ron would wait up for her, bright blue eyes glad to see her, tall frame for her to hug. She wondered if he was still with the young shop girl. Her hand pressed to her face as her body recognized a headache before her mind.

Before a sob could slip out she went to the kitchen for a drought of firewhiskey. This required a clear head but that meant getting her heart out of her throat first. As she tilted one back Rose cleared her throat at the door.

Hermione startled, spilling a few drops on the counter, but swallowing most of the gulp as she turned, free hand reaching for her wand. Seeing Rose she clenched the counter instead and set the shot glass down behind her. "Rose. Honey, you got my owl? Is Hugo getting ready for bed?"

The look Hermione got in response wasn't inherited from Ron. "Yeah, kind of; he's brushed his teeth and is playing computer games in his pj's. Dad didn't say anything about your owl, just made dinner and went upstairs. What's going on with you two? Are you cheating on him?"

"What? No! He's…" Stopping before she said something defences that could ruin her marriage when all she'd seen was snogging. "I had supper with the Malfoys and they wanted to let you know that Scorpius would like to have you over for dinner some time to meet his parents formally." Not the smoothest cover up but effective with a thirteen year old girl.

"The Malfoys! Scorpius is in Ireland. Why would his parents want to meet me?" Rose's rosey cheeks answered her question better than Hermione wanted to. Realizing it was rhetorical, the pretty teen spun on her heel, over her shoulder she closed the discussion smartly. "Hugo was wondering if Victoire counts as a cousin when she's part veela."

Hermione's eyebrows almost left her face as quickly as her daughter departed. Closing her eyes, pursing her lips, and remembering vanquishing a dementor helped her put things back in perspective. She was going to have to talk to Hugo.

After she talked to Ron?

Sighing; the beautiful, brightest witch of her generation, determined to confront her husband about the distance she had tried to bridge between them today. Ron wasn't the best with hard feelings and if she had to admit it, neither was she. Neither of them were the best at taking criticism, either.

She had thought she could avoid trouble by simply putting more effort into their relationship. By visiting him spontaneously she had hoped to rekindle the romance that had slowly dwindled as they'd both gotten caught up in the general monotony of work and childcare. Not that she didn't love both her children but there was little less sexually stimulating than the thought of her son being attracted to his cousin, for example.

Considering how best to broach this now extremely unpleasant topic she pulled another glass out of the cupboard and carried the three items of interest to their master bedroom. The lights were already off. Ron was pretending to be asleep. He didn't want to know where she'd been.

She switched on the overhead light unrepentantly.

"Ron. We need to talk. Let's have a drink first." Closing and locking the door behind her, she pretended not to trudge to the king sized bed. It had been a concession on her part, he really was big enough to sprawl across most of it himself. She now appreciated her ability to perch on one edge without being within immediate reach.

"A drink?!" He bolts half up, turning as quickly as she'd expected, dramatized outrage reminding her to reinforce the sound proof spells on their room. "Where have you been? That you want to wake me up to have a drink to tell me something! Really?"

"Ron, I stopped by Weasley's Wizard Wheezes after work today. I'm going to have another shot before I ask you about what I saw and I'm offering you one too." She couldn't look at him. Her hands betrayed the faintest tremble but overall she suspected she was still in the relatively comfortable zone of shock.

"You… Y, yes, please. A shot sounds like a, a good idea, that." His bluster always blew out fast. She handed him the glass she'd just poured and prepared herself the second.

He watched her, she still didn't want to meet his eyes, but they nodded to each other and tossed them back in time.


	2. Chapter 1

Hermione had returned to her office late, not looking well. She'd hidden her face with her sleeve and closed the door behind her. Draco only knew she had returned because he'd been about to leave for the night. He'd just sent Astoria an owl when the Minister of Magic returned unexpectedly. She'd left early so it was possible she'd forgotten something, or something important had required her to return, except that he'd caused her to look like that himself enough times in school to know better. He hoped what he was about to do wouldn't be perceived as untoward and cruel.

Sighing again at the door of Mrs. Weasley's office, Mr. Malfoy steeled himself, plastering his most polite, compassionate, closed-lipped smile to his always pale face, and knocked.

"Who, who is it?" He glanced at the ceiling at the swallowed sobs he could hear in her response.

"It's Malfoy, Minister, from the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I was just wondering if you'd like to have dinner with Astoria and I, as Scorpius is staying with the Potters this weekend in Ireland?" His intonations were the perfect mix of lowly professional hoping to mingle with a superior and old frienemy hoping to put the past behind him. He couldn't help smirking at his thespian skills. Which is when the door opened in his face.

Her tear streaked cheeks and salty red eyes looked up at him and the guilt alone would have wiped the smirk off his face if surprise hadn't done it for him. "Malfoy?" She sounded just like when she'd said it twenty years ago, incredulous and mildly affronted.

His cool returned, "Yes, Minister; dinner?" His polite smile faded as she continued to glare.

"What made you think that invitation was appropriate, Malfoy?" Her mouth closed on the question and her arms crossed, she shifted her weight to her other foot so she could get a better look at her former enemy. An enemy that she had only allowed to be accepted for the job to set a good example of reconciliation and reformation.

"Honestly? You looked upset and I wanted to offer you a chance to feel better." Compared to Lord Voldemort lying to this boss was an unfairly matched game of quidditch, "I figured, either you'd get a great dinner or enjoy laughing about rejecting my offer with your family." Only Astoria would have been able to guess his smile was fake.

Hermione uncrossed her arms to clench her fists at her side; "What do you know about my family?" Her raised voice and anger flushed cheeks highlighted the nerve he'd accidentally struck. He allowed his smile to frown in feigned ignorant innocence; he didn't need a degree in psychology to figure that the Weasel was the cause of her tears.

"Nothing, Minister. You and Ron have a beautiful daughter that my son, Scorpius, admires. That's all I know about your family." His voice sounded sincere, his expression appeared kindly concerned, his wife would have lightly smacked him for being a tosser. He hoped she wasn't worried about him now, even if he was at risk of losing his job.

He didn't need it. It was a sideways avenue for fostering connections with other potions masters. He and Astoria had bonded over potions and they both enjoyed surprising each or working on a complex recipe together. Working at the Ministry in Internationals wasn't necessary and he'd already built enough of a network that he could be fired and everyone he worked with would still talk to him. It made this act so easy he almost forgot to dislike lying.

He put his hands up in surrender, shaking his head. "It was an offer. I meant no offence. I hope you have a good night, Minister. I should be getting home; Astoria might get concerned." He bowed his head docilely and started to turn away, stepping back from the door.

Her hand shot out, catching his shoulder. Hermione had considered the alternative to dinner with the Malfoys at the dreaded Malfoy Manor and decided that there was strength in numbers, even if they weren't good odds. "Dinner…" She searched for something polite and honest; "dinner could be a fine opportunity to meet Astoria, which would be nice to do." Despite being Minister of Magic, Hermione wasn't the most suave politician. Draco valiantly refrained from sneering at her attempt to salvage a rough night.

"Excellent." His father's voice seemed to say. "Do you have everything you'll need?" He asked politely while he considered ways to make it up to Astoria. A pendant perhaps?

"I'll just be a minute." Hermione released his shoulder and turned, gathering her briefcase, putting on her cloak.

A week long vacation in the Maldives, maybe.

"Do you want to let anyone know where you'll be by owl before we leave?" Polite concern oozed, shielding him from suspicion, almost. A new conservatory with fully grown black roses set to bloom on Astoria's winter birthday. That might be good enough, along with a long night of lavished attention.

"Oh. Um, yes. Good thinking, Malfoy." He didn't need to see the note since he heard her whisper for it to go to Rose. Hermione met his eyes before nodding for him to go first. Which was a very good idea since by now his wife was probably battle ready at the fireplace.

She was. He quickly moved to block her wand from Hermione's view as he smoothly hugged his wife, concealing her shock and giving her time to school her features for professional company. Of course, she was lovely.

Without trying Astoria emphasized the other woman's stiffness. It didn't help that Hermione worked in the uniform of stuffy business. The pureblood aristocrat couldn't help it, though. Grace had been trained into the Greengrasses' for generations and Astoria was particularly fashionable. She was also an excellent host.

She immediately smiled warmly to his former enemy, extending both wand free hands as she stepped forward to welcome the Minister of Magic into her home. Her suede green leather ballet shoes made no sound on the marble floors and her silver silk evening gown was modestly becoming. Her wedding and engagement rings were her only jewelry but that only made him prouder of her natural beauty, hair casually down yet perfectly placed, minimal makeup, trim, unpainted nails you'd never guess spent hours in dirt completed the image of perfect housewife.

"Minister. It is an honor to meet you. Draco's spoken so well of you." Draco smiled at his wife's feigned warmth. Most people didn't know Ria was antisocial. "Please, you must let us set a place for you at the dining room table." A house elf squeaked from the shadows and hurried off to make sure dinner would go without a hitch. Despite having ordered them to comply with the new Minister's hopes for greater equality between species, old habits stuck around. At least no one had yelled at her for being Muggle born.

"That would be very kind of you, but please call me Hermione; at least while we're not at work." She glanced at Lord Malfoy as she accepted Astoria's gentle, two handed touch, vaguely resembling a shake so he supposed he still had a job. Hermione allowed Astoria to lead her into the mansion that had haunted her dreams for years, oddly comforted be the other woman's closeness. Her hand wasn't released until they'd swept into the grand formal dining room and she'd been practically put in her seat.

The room was not one she'd seen before and she allowed herself to acknowledge that so far her adventure was better than a talk with her husband. The room was well lit by lots of floating candles that almost warmed the blackwood table and chairs. The seats were upholstered in a silver velvet that complemented the black marble floors. The whole space was much more intimate than she had expected and while no one sat next to anyone, no one seemed to sit alone, either.

"Astoria is an exceptional herbalist. She's been expanding the gardens and the library." Draco said proudly, raising a brow in his wife's direction to prompt more discussion. Any subject was Hermione's subject and so as Astoria waxed eloquently on the incorporation of endangered plants into the landscape around Wiltshire Hermione was able to engage with the woman on the effort needed to diplomatically encourage growth.

The courses flowed flawlessly and Hermione started with surprise at Draco's question. He hadn't spoken much during dinner. "Dessert?"

Looking down to gather her thoughts she realized it was probably well past time to be getting on with the dreaded talk. "Oh; no. Thank you both." She looked from Draco to Astoria as she spoke; "It's been delicious and a real pleasure getting to know you and reacquainting ourselves Draco but I ought to get going." She allowed a house elf to pull her chair back as she stood.

The Malfoy's smoothly stood as well, smiling politely. "Of course, please let us know if you'd like to visit again. Scorpius would be happy to host Rose any time." Astoria could charm the dead.

"That would be lovely." Hermione was lead to the fireplace and waved away. A moment of silence passed after she'd left before Draco cleared his throat.

"I was thinking the southwest wing could use a new conservatory. Single paned glass spelled to retain warmth while letting in the light." Another moment of silence. "With a colored glass-sand reflecting pond, tall enough for a mango tree so we could grow vanilla orchids on it and hang a swinging bench."

With a sigh, Astoria turned to face her beloved husband. Her gave searched his face for a long minute. Her hands raised, held his head as she tugged him to her lips.

They kissed and he knew he was forgiven and that he was going to lavish her with attention for the rest of the evening because he wanted to.


	3. Chapter 3

"I think we should get a marriage counselor." She had spent enough time trying to think of a way to ask him why he'd been kissing someone else, hadn't even been trying to talk to her about anything, and had concluded that he hadn't been trying to save their marriage because he wasn't interested in admitting he had a problem with anything. She didn't want to turn herself into the problem.

She wasn't in love with Ron at the moment but she loved their family. She appreciated his ability to strategize, he had quit the Auror's so that at least one of them could be around for the kids and his brother, he'd been so supportive of her. She didn't want it to be too late to save the love they had felt for eachother.

He sighed. She thought something, so they were going to do it. He wondered if she thought they should have sex whether he'd suddenly get hard for her or if his penis was actually allowed to determine for itself if it was interested. Shifting a little farther away from his beautiful wife on the bed, he set the empty glass down and realized something.

"You stopped by after you got off early from work. Did you want to talk about something then?" He let himself gaze at her as she collected a response.

"I was hoping we could spend some time alone together. I had been missing you." She knew it was the most guilt inducing thing she could say. She said it anyway. It was honestly what had happened.

It didn't hit him quite as hard as she'd expected. "Huh. Well, if you can continue getting off work early maybe we will be able to see a counselor." He wished he'd joined the drama club because it came out far less enthusiastic than he'd wanted it to. Not that he was enthusiastic about it, but because he recognized the position he was in and wanted to appear cooperative.

"Can you think of something better?" She'd always been a bit more defensive than he liked. He couldn't figure out why, either. She was beautiful, brilliant, and while her parents had been muggles they'd been well off, in a loving relationship, and as supportive of her as they could possibly have been.

"No, 'Mione; you're right. Counseling sounds like the best thing for us to do now. Do you already have an appointment scheduled?" Again, not the most ardent response but he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty about Megan. She made him feel good. He hadn't felt good in years. It wasn't like he felt bad, he just hadn't felt much of anything pretty much sing Hugo had started turned eight and stopped seeing him as his hero.

At first he'd hoped he'd grow out of it, like Hugo had only the adult end of it; he could recognize the opportunity for maturity and appreciated his son's development. It just hadn't happened for him.

Ron had tried renewing past hobbies like chess and had joined the local quidditch group that competed in the informal games around globe. He'd met up with Harry and tagged along on an Auror investigation. He'd gone to his doctor after hearing about Rose's adventures and hadn't felt relief when he'd hugged her. He loved Rose; she was everything he could hope for in a child but he hadn't even felt pride when she'd saved Harry and Malfoys' sons.

"I haven't. I can ask Percey-"

"God no!" Ron interrupts; "I know he's your personal assistant but doesn't need to know we're getting counseling. Do you want Mum to ask us about it at Sunday brunch?" Her naivete is occasionally unbelievable.

"Fine. Do you want to schedule it or should I?" She allowed her frustration to echo around the spelled room.

Somewhat bashfully, Ron raised a brow to her, "If you give me your schedule I can. It might take me longer than it would take you or Percy but I can set up an an important appointment." And it was important, he realized. He loved her flushed cheeks, smart mouth, and righteousness.

Watching her process his words like a boxer take a punch, he realized he wanted to unpurse her lips with a kiss. Grabbing the impulse by the delicate line of her jaw, he did. A swift, dry peck that ended with them gazing into eachothers eyes for the first time in what was probably years.

She blinked and kissed him back. He was on her in a flash, hands knowing exactly how much pressure to apply to each nipple, tongue able to draw a gasp from her in a breathless minute, knee to her groin encouraging the sexy arch to her back. She knew him too, how sensitive his nipples were, how he liked having his hip grasped, how much pressure to apply to his groin with her knee.

It was so much better than snogging a girl ten years his junior.

"Hermione, please. I love you. Let me make love to you." It might have been the most poetic thing he'd ever said.

In response, her hands tugged down his pajama pants and tugged on his thickening member. She licked her lips and then pushed him back, taking him into her mouth. His hands kneaded at the knots in her shoulder just way way he knew she liked. She hummed appreciatively, he was hard, and she rose to put his hand on her sex. He didn't need to be told twice. It was his turn to shove her back, wrench down her dress pants and remind himself what she tasted like.

Ocean spray at noon on rare, sun filled, beach day glistened between her inner lips. He lapped at the sides, making her legs twitch in anticipation, until her fist clenched his hair and her hips bucked in protest. Then he thrust his tongue in, rubbing his nose against her clitorus so hard she yelled his name in that voice between pleasure and pain. A few more thrusts with his tongue and he felt her insides clench.

Her glazed eyes met his as he rose, straddling her, since he didn't want to thrust too much in too soon, nudging her nether lips with his phallus, spreading her juices along his cock, mixing them with his.

"'Mione, cast the spell, love." She was better at conception spells too, like most things.

"My wands in the pants you threw on the floor, halfway to the door." She thrust her hips provocatively, grinding her sex against his. His was on the nightstand, barely within reach. It'd have to do. She moved with him as he stretched out to grab the suddenly very phallic looking object.

"Conceptum praesidium." He enunciated, before tossing his wand under his pillow and thrusting his cock into his wife. She thrust too, knocking him off balance, rolling over him, and taking the top to grind harder, faster than he'd thought she'd be ready for. Of course she wanted all of him as deep as she could get.

For a woman as patient as the Minister of Magic, she knew when to demand what she wanted. They matched each others rhythm. He grit his teeth past the first chance for him to blow, felt her change in tempo when she neared and grasped her hips to grind her threw their shared orgasm. She fell, panting against his chest, breath hot on his nipple. Instead of letting him fall out of her, she clenched, holding him in, rubbing her clit against his inguinal muscles.

He knew what that meant. He let the increased sensitivity from orgasm claim his awareness; he became his cock in her vagina, his nipples under her ear and breath. She caught her breath and took the nipple she'd been breathing on into a kiss, sucking on it as her hand tugged and rubbed on the other one. His hip twitched as blood rushed back to the previously spent appendage. Hermione unclenched and reclenched her vagina, knowing exactly how to encourage him. He slowly pulled part way out before easing back in, again, and again until he's hard enough to roll her over, pressing against her back to rub her breasts into the bed. She obligingly spreads her knees just wide enough while staying high enough on them for him to kneel behind her comfortably, making it easy to pound her from behind.

He lets her rise to one hand as her other finds her clitorous and she shakes her hips in enthusiasm. He could still remember the first time she'd done it. He'd gone out and bought the engagement ring that weekend.

He went as fast and hard as he could before falling, panting onto her back. They half rolled over together, continuing the sex on their side, her favorite side. He watched her eyelids flutter every time his head hit her g-spot. It'd been a great night when they'd finally found it, hidden, to the right of her center. He let her ride the prolonged orgasm for as long as she wanted. Eventually, she rose over him again, this time facing his feet. She swirled her hips around until he couldn't hold it any longer, hips bucking in orgasm.

She slowly slid off him. Taking a few moments to catch her breath and get some strength back in her legs. He let himself stretch out on the bed besides her.

"Wow. I don't know if that discourages or encourages me kissing that girl." Ron couldn't remember his shop assistants name. He didn't care. Hermione lightly hit his shoulder as she sat up, swinging her legs off the bed.

"You really only kissed her?" She knew the question would have to be followed up when she wasn't so ready to swallow exactly what they both knew he'd say.

"Really." He didn't blame her for not believing him. He wouldn't.

"I'm going to take a shower, change the sheets, please?" She gave him that coquettish look he realized no one else had ever seen as she took off her shirt and strolled into the master bath.

"Yes, mam." He grinned at her bare, wet ass, feeling better than he had in years.


End file.
